Hygiene
by KarotsaMused
Summary: Mugen gets a 'yes' from Jin. On a few conditions. MugenxJin, upped rating for language and sexual situations. Rowr.


A/N: Disclaimer: Samurai Champloo belongs to its creator. I'm using it with no permission and for no profit. 

Ahh. More MugenxJin. Gotta love it. Ever wonder why Mugen and Jin aren't all over one another in canon? At least not blatantly? Well. Here's a theory.

* * *

"I simply request that you bathe."

Mugen's lip curls grotesquely, stretching cracked skin and baring the glint of his teeth. He stands with his head half-cocked, his hands dangling idle toward the floor, leading with his hips.

"Is that it?" he drawls, rough and rumbling-warm with amusement. He takes a step forward and Jin straightens even further, impossibly stiff.

"Then it will be taken into consideration."

Mugen hisses. "Consideration. I know where it'll be _taken_." He staggers closer to Jin, poised like a drunkard's marionette, hands swaying limply with the promise of strength.

Jin presses the tip of his sword under Mugen's chin and quirks an elegant eyebrow.

Mugen growls and takes a step back before turning.

* * *

"Swine. You reek of sulfur."

Mugen breathes heavy into Jin's ear, his tongue lolling but missing any skin. "Th'springs."

Jin forces him away but not before his hands and sleeves are soaked.

Mugen shakes his hair out and snarls. "The fuck?"

Jin shakes his head and hides his eyes under his glasses. "Soap," he clarifies, and smirks, even as white hands begin to wring water out of dark sleeves.

He resolutely refuses to watch as Mugen obscenely rearranges himself through the towel and stomps again into the night.

* * *

Mugen's laughter precedes the presence of wet, callused hands snaking their way past Jin's collar. He catches both of Mugen's tattooed wrists and rubs his thumbs into the vagrant's palms.

Mugen purrs and grinds against the small of Jin's back, lanky legs spread with impatience. He smells of jasmine, some stolen finery that does not suit him at all. It smothers the stench of sunlight and blood. Mugen is scrubbed clean and wet, water droplets clinging to the curves of his neck and shoulders.

Jin adjusts his glasses even as Mugen's tongue and teeth threaten to dislodge them, holding them in place with one hand as he uses the other to hold Mugen's wrist captive and examine his fingers.

Callused knuckles and strong muscles mark years of swordsmanship, bloody brawls and desperate scrambles. The veins on the back of Mugen's hand stand up, curving over the bones that on anyone else perhaps would look delicate. His fingers are worn, to the point where the pads are hardened and nearly flat. The cracked, brown-yellow nails are blunted by being bitten or torn away, and thick crescents of dirt hide beneath them. "Hn."

Mugen freezes, a low growl in his throat. "What _now_?"

"Fingernails." When Mugen's growl becomes more pronounced, Jin pinches him between forefinger and thumb, hard enough to break the skin. "It will be important," he murmurs, and Mugen registers the low, brown tone even through the shock of pain.

* * *

"Anything else?" Mugen snaps, having painstakingly scraped out the undersides of his nails with a dagger. "All this crazy shit you've got me doin', this better fuckin' well be worth it."

Jin's glasses flash dangerously.

"An apple," he orders, his tone firm but dark and curling. "Eat one."

Mugen considers walking out, just going away and finding some whore. His empty pockets sway with every step he takes, and the jasmine stench still clings to his skin, making the inside of his nose itch. He caves when Jin tips his head and the fierceness of his mouth is entirely forgotten in the intensity of his gaze.

Jin pitches an apple at him from beside his hip, forcing Mugen to catch and break eye contact.

"_Fine_," Mugen hisses, his teeth tearing in, "but fuck if I know _why_."

Jin smiles a little, but hides it by bowing his head and gazing into his lap.

* * *

Mugen understands when Jin takes Mugen's fingers into his mouth, when Jin's tongue traces patterns down Mugen's belly and spells words Mugen can't read on the insides of his thighs. Jin is white against the warm lanterns and leaves the taste of tea in the back of his throat before he pulls away and trails his lips over an intoxicatingly frustrating path down Mugen's neck.

"So what, I gotta take a ba-ath every time I want a fuck?" Mugen grunts, voice hitching as Jin's hands wander.

Jin murmurs agreement, driving his knee into Mugen's hip to keep him still. "You may want to make a habit of it, yes."

Mugen groans loudly before clamping his teeth down on his lower lip and rolling them both, landing atop Jin and knocking the air from his chest. "_Fuck_ you! It's damn' near impossible to find—"

Jin kisses him soundly, scraping his teeth against Mugen's lips. "An apple a day and then we'll talk. I'm not entirely closed to compromise."


End file.
